


Christmas Comes to Mr. Barrow

by Once_More_With_Feeling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Christmas, Friendship, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:13:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Once_More_With_Feeling/pseuds/Once_More_With_Feeling
Summary: It's Christmas 'the other side of York,' and our dear Thomas may not be as alone as he thought.





	

**1925**

The letter arrived a week before Christmas. Small and unassuming, in the first post of the day, the outside of the envelope was addressed to him in her petite and familiar hand.

_Dearest Thomas,_

_I’m sure you remember that the servants at Downton have their Christmas celebration at luncheon, and the family have theirs at dinner. Of course I do not know what your routine is in your new place, but we would love to spend our Christmas lunch with you, if it is at all convenient. If I do not hear otherwise from you, then Mr. Molesley and I will be there at noon. Don’t worry about having anything fancy—we only wish to see you._

_Fondly,_

_P._

He smiled to himself when he read it. He had thought he would spend his first Christmas away from Downton alone; Mrs. Jenkins had said she would leave him a cold lunch before leaving for the morning to spend the holiday with her family. And Elsie wouldn’t come in that day at all, of course. How nice to know that he would have some company at midday on Christmas. He started thinking about the gifts he could buy for them. Perhaps some gloves for Phyllis, and he would have to come up with something for Molesley. He should find something for Mrs. Hughes as well, and send it home with them.

He hadn’t exactly shed tears over being alone at Christmas, but it wasn’t an entirely pleasant prospect, either. He had just planned to work, and try to convince himself it was nothing but an ordinary day. Besides, he had Lady Edith’s wedding and his visit to Downton for New Year’s to look forward to.

Lord and Lady Styles hadn’t said anything to him about their plans for Christmas yet, and he had seen no reason to ask them if he could do anything special. He smiled again as he made his way up the stairs, to find Sir Mark, and ask him for a few hours off on Christmas Day, to spend with his friends.

***

Everything was perfect. Or at least he hoped so. The table in the small servants’ hall at his new place sat six people, though he had often wondered why. He usually sat there alone, while Mrs. Jenkins ate in the kitchen. Today he had set it for three, with plain white dishes, and green linen napkins. He had placed a sprig of holly on each of the three plates. He would serve cold cuts of ham, and bread and cheese, and a cold cranberry sauce. All he had to do was make the tea when they arrived.

The bell at the back door alerted him to their arrival, right on time. On his way to the door, Thomas paused in front of the mirror to straighten his jacket and tie. He had gained back most of the weight he had lost the previous spring and summer, and his pin striped suit fit him well again. He thought it right to make a good show, and besides, he needed to save his brown suit for Lady Edith’s wedding.

The first thing he thought when he opened the back door was that he was glad he’d chosen the pin stripes. The second thing he thought was that what he was seeing was not possible.

For there on the back step stood Miss Baxter and Mr. Molesley, in their Sunday best, and behind them were Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, Daisy, Andy, Mrs. Patmore, and even Mr. Mason. They carried stacks of presents and picnic hampers, and baskets filled with treats. Thomas let his mouth fall open, but before he could manage to stammer anything at all, his guests began to push into the warmth of the hall. Mr. Molesley stepped forward first and shook Thomas’ hand, and was followed by Andy and Mr. Mason, and even Mr. Carson doing the same. Miss Baxter kissed him warmly on the cheek and wished him a happy Christmas. Then Mrs. Hughes did the same, as did Daisy, and Mrs. Patmore, standing on her toes to reach him. Once everyone was inside, he closed the door against the cold and turned to look at them. He knew he should say something, but only found the will to touch his own cheek, warm as it was. He thought briefly that this might be due to the fact that he had never been kissed so many times in one day in all of his life. At least not by women.

Thomas shook himself from his reverie just as his guests began to snicker. “I’m sorry. I’m… so sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting all of you. Won’t you come in?”

They continued to laugh and smile as he led them to his servants’ hall. Once crammed inside, he felt certain that the space was entirely inadequate. There weren’t even enough chairs. He had only planned for three, and he didn’t have enough food for everyone. He grabbed Phyllis’ elbow as she was about to enter the hall, and pulled her back toward the door.

“It’s so kind of all of you to come,” he said. “But I don’t have near enough for nine…”

Just then Mrs. Patmore exited the dining area and walked toward him, and he noticed she held rather a large roasting pan in her arms.

“The goose is all roasted, and the vegetables as well,” she said. “I’ll just need to warm them. You do know how to heat your oven, don’t you?” she asked, scrunching her nose at him.

He turned back to Phyllis, who smiled up at him. “I think we’ve got the food covered,” she said. Mrs. Patmore turned and walked off to find the kitchen as Phyllis continued. “I’m sorry if we’ve given you a shock. But as I said, we only wished to see you. I told Mrs. Hughes we were coming, and she and Mr. Carson asked if they could join us. Then Mrs. Patmore offered to cook, and so Daisy wanted to come. Then of course Andy did, too, and they didn’t want to leave Mr. Mason. Only Mr. and Mrs. Bates stayed home this time, as Anna is so near her time. They send their regards, of course.”

“Of course,” he parroted. Wait. What? “What?” he asked. “You all came… just to see me?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, taking his hand. “It’s all for you. With all of our love.” She looked him in the eye and smiled. “Because it’s Christmas,” she finished. She led him back into the dining hall and he saw for the first time that the space, while small, was a perfect place to spend Christmas with eight of his closest friends. He had already built a cozy fire, and his guests had removed their coats, and draped them over the backs of chairs. Mrs. Patmore returned with a stack of plates she had found, and began setting the rest of the table. Two of them would have to eat on the bench against the wall, and maybe one in an armchair by the fire, but that was manageable. Thomas felt himself relax as he warmed to the idea of eating a Christmas feast prepared by his favorite cook, in the company of the people he loved best. He thought he had spied some bottled rum punch in one of those baskets…

***

They had feasted until no one could eat another bite. Mrs. Patmore’s goose had survived the train journey and came out perfectly tender and juicy. They had eaten it with roasted vegetables and potatoes, and Thomas’ cranberry sauce and bread, and Mrs. Hughes had brought bubble and squeak (with lamb, thank you very much). Miss Baxter and Mr. Molesley had in fact brought rum punch, enough for everyone, and Thomas had provided champagne as well. They had drunk them with their pudding, and then there had been presents.

At first Thomas had worried that he didn’t have gifts for everyone, but they had all brought enough presents that everyone had something to open. He had received a set of handkerchiefs from Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson, monogramed with his initials, and Daisy and Mr. Mason had given him a basket of pickles and jams from the farm. Miss Baxter had given him a copy of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s new book, which he had mentioned wanting to read in one of his letters. He had given her a pair of new gloves, which she had fussed over immensely upon opening.

Miss Baxter now sat next to Thomas on the bench along the wall, her arm casually linked through his. Perhaps she had hit the punch a little too hard. In any case, Thomas found himself quite content to sit somewhat apart from everyone else, with his best friend, and enjoy the merry scene before him. Daisy and Andy were happy to sit on the floor in front of the fire, and Mr. Mason and Mrs. Patmore sat in armchairs behind them, sipping tea. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes stood near the fire as well, chatting with Mr. Molesley about his work at the school. Thomas watched Phyllis watch him—the man who was nearly her beau—and wondered for the thousandth time what would happen when Mr. Molesley finally worked up the courage to ask her to marry him.

Even before he would have named Phyllis as the best friend he’d ever had, her growing friendship with Mr. Molesley had made Thomas uneasy. He liked to think he was past resenting others for being happy—and certainly past trying to ruin what made them happy. It truly wasn’t their happiness that bothered him, not any more. It was rather his lingering certainty that if Miss Baxter married Mr. Molesley—or anyone, really—eventually she would leave, and Thomas would be alone and without friends, again. Today though, as she sat next to him, holding his arm as though he were her family, he began to wonder if perhaps she would always have room for him, whatever happened. That perhaps he needn’t worry so much about losing her.

“Thank you so much for doing all of this, Phyllis,” he said. “I know it was your idea, to bring everyone, and the food, and the cheer, and everything. It’s the best Christmas I’ve ever had, and I’m so grateful.”

She looked up at him then, in that confused way she had, that he used to find annoying, and now found utterly charming. As though she had momentarily forgotten again that he rarely saw himself in the same brilliant light that she did.

“But it wasn’t me, Thomas,” she said. “You brought all of us together today, not me. We’re all here because of you. Don’t forget that, dear one.” She smiled at him, and then rested her head on his shoulder, confident the words she had spoken were true.

How typical of Phyllis. She had brought him a great gift, then insisted he had been the one to give it. He laughed lightly, and let her rest there. He kissed her forehead and found himself grateful, too, for her letting him be the strong one for once.

“Happy Christmas,” she murmured, and squeezed his arm.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Very happy indeed.”


End file.
